Got Cookies?
by ImmaStartARiot
Summary: I think cookies will be like my signature. When you read a story and it's mentioned so weirdly that it's almost obsessive and unhealthy, you know it's a story by me.


"Mm…cookie fortress…kidnap Casey…zombie apocalypse…repopulate with Casey…what kind of fucking dreams are these?" I murmured softly.

My eyes shot open when my stomach rumbled, but I was already having trouble sleeping. I think I was dreaming about someone kidnapping Casey and tricking him into repopulating a post apocalyptic world? What is Casey putting in my food?

I sat up in bed and sighed, looking over at Casey sleeping next to me. Well, more like against me. He was cuddled up to my side with an arm thrown around my waist, even after I sat up. I pushed his mop of dark brown hair off his face so I could see him more clearly. I lightly caressed his cheek with my thumb before slowly prying his arm off of my waist and heading to the kitchen.

Okay, so maybe I wasn't allowed to go into the kitchen.

But it wasn't my fault that the toaster spontaneously combusted after I used it.

And burning five pots was an honest accident.

I don't know anything about the kitchen faucet having a leak in it.

Sorta.

And the oven catching fire (haha Catching Fire, I'm so witty right?) was totally not my fault.

But after these unrelated kitchen appliance incidents, Casey has deemed me the Kiss of Death for the kitchen stuff and forbids me to go into the kitchen unless Norman Bates or Dexter or Jason Voorhees or Michael Myers or Stephanie Myers is chasing me to kill me and I have to hide in the kitchen.

But this was a serious emergency.

And it's all Casey's fault.

See, apparently he doesn't know how to use a condom or pick up my birth control and we were on our honeymoon soooo…now I'm pregnant.

Jerk knocked me up.

I mean, yeah sure we're married.

But now I'm gonna get fat and moody.

But I'm not fat yet.

And I was really craving cookies.

Casey said he'd get me anything I wanted to eat, day or night, so I didn't have to burn down the house. But he was sleeping and I really didn't want to wake him up so I'm pretty sure I can make some motherfucking cookies okay?

You don't need to be a cookie god for this.

I think.

I opened the fridge to look for a big flashing neon sign with an arrow that said, "_COOKIES OVER HERE_", but all I found was a note that said, "_I swear Sammy, if you don't get out of my kitchen, I will kill you_."

And that didn't even tell me where the cookies were.

"Looking for something?" a sleepy voice asked from behind the counter.

I yelped and turned around guiltily to find a droopy eyed husband. "I wanted a glass of water. Case, I won't burn the house down by getting water."

He closed his eyes, leaning his elbows on the counter, still silent. After a few moments, he looked up at me and crossed the kitchen to push me up against the refrigerator. He placed his hands on either side of my head and whispered, "That's such bullshit."

Ughhh, I have the sexiest husband ever. Now I remember why we didn't wait for birth control.

He heatedly pressed his lips to mine, gripping the hem of my Walking Dead T-shirt. "Come…back…to…bed…" he muttered between every kiss.

I groaned out, "I want cookies."

"I want you," he whined.

"Casey, I'm pregnant and hormonal."

He sighed dejectedly and pulled away to grab me by my waist, pulling me away from the fridge. "I hide the cookie dough in the back of the fridge."

I practically whimpered, "You were hiding my cookies?"

"I'm not going to leave temptation there for you to set everything on fire."

"You suck."

"Mm, love you too. Get the baking pan. And the PAM."

I pulled out of his arms and went to the cabinets where he kept the pots and pans and whatnot. I stood there, staring at all of the stainless steel appliances, not knowing which one he meant. Finally, I just grabbed a random one that he called a pan and set it on the stove.

He looked at me weird and I asked defensively, "What?"

"Sams…I use this to make grilled cheese sandwiches. This is a regular pan."

"Be specific!"

"The long, flat, pan with no handles! Forget it; we'll just use aluminum foil. Get the PAM."

I scowled, "Who's Pam? I don't want her in my house."

He chuckled loudly at me. "Sweetheart, PAM is the cooking spray that we need to use so the cookies don't stick to the foil."

My face burnt up and I turned around to rummage through the cabinets to find it.

"I knew that," I muttered incoherently.

He laughed softly and I turned to glare at him. "What's so funny?"

He gave me a wide smile and said, "You are."

Before I could kill him, he leaned forward to press a kiss into my temple. He pulled away to gaze at me adoringly. "C'mere." He handed me the ice cream scooper thingamabob and I took it, just staring at it, not knowing what to do with it.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah…"

"You need to scoop out the cookie dough and place them on the sheet…"

"God, I knew that, Casey! I was just taking a dramatic pause!"

He rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, "And you call _me _the drama queen."

I dug the scooper into the frozen cookie dough and struggled to get the dough into it. I was determined though, not to let Casey see me struggling. Alas, his arms wrapped around my waist and he rested his chin on the top of my head, watching me fight with the cookie dough. I huffed, thoroughly annoyed by now. "Are you going to help me?"

"I just want you to remember how hard this is for the next time you want cookies at four in the morning."

"Well, obviously next time you're going to make cookies before going to bed so I don't have to suffer in the middle of the night."

He slipped his hand under the front of my shirt to rub my stomach affectionately before grabbing the scoop thing from me and effortlessly digging balls of chocolate chip cookie dough from the container and plopping them onto the sheet. He pulled away from me to put the cookies into the oven, but not before pushing me all the way into the corner with a stern warning not to come near the stove.

"And now, we wait."

I groaned, propping myself onto the counter. "I don't wanna wait. Gimme some cookie dough."

"Silly Sammy. I have to be the responsible adult and tell you no way Jose."

"But I love you."

"But you're manipulating me."

"But I still love you."

"Would you settle for kissing your very lovestruck husband?"

"But…cookies…"

He sighed exasperatedly and said, "Maybe I should've tied a cookie to your high top instead of a horseshoe. You probably would've kissed me sooner."

"Don't be silly. I would've eaten it. And it probably would've crumbled when I threw it across Grams' apartment."

He gave me a hurt look. "You threw the horseshoe across the apartment?"

Ohhhh…

I forgot he didn't know I did that…

I grabbed his hand and held it up to my heart. "It was back in middle school, Case. When Heather stole your phone and I thought you hated me. I'm sorry. I was upset. I looked for it all night after the wedding. It's still on my high top, I swear."

He nodded slowly. "Okay," he said and then he nuzzled my neck, nipping me lightly.

"Casey, I swear, if you leave another hickey, I will destroy you."

"You wouldn't," he whispered and continued biting the skin softly.

"I would," I threatened.

"I made cookies."

"Get the milk and we won't have a problem."

His eyelashes brushed across my neck and I moaned slightly. I felt his smirk and shoved him, to which he responded by grabbing my face and kissing me passionately.

I'll admit, I got really into it. C'mon, my sexy, shirtless husband was making me cookies.

But then the timer rang, implicating the cookies were done and I shoved him away from me again and ran to the oven, opening it and grabbing the sheet with cookies.

I yelped slightly at the burning sensation on the tips of my fingers and tried blowing on them. Casey sighed and pulled me over to the sink where he ran cold water over my fingers. While I sighed in relief, Casey said, "Sometimes I think you love cookies more than me."

"If a cookie baby comes out of me in eight months, you'll have your answer."

Eventually, my fingers cooled down and I kissed Casey on his cheek lovingly. "Mm, you're the best."

He shrugged. "Sure."

I smiled at him. "No one else would put with my shit and bake cookies for me."

"Oh…the cookies were for you?" he asked mock seriously.

I punched his shoulder. "Don't push it."

**A/N: Technically, I already fulfilled my obligation of one update a week until school starts because I wrote a chapter of a crossover I started because I have no life and sammy4ever gave me the idea and I have no self-control because The Walking Dead and Sammy Keyes complete me. But I felt bad so I did this one shot anD I HOPE YOU GUYS REALIZE THAT I INCORPORTATED MY UNHEALTHY COOKIE OBSESSION INTO THIS BECAUSE SAMMY4EVER SUGGESTED THIS AND LIKE I SAID I HAVE NO SELF-CONTROL. Do you guys like my cookies bracelet thingy? Coookiessss.**


End file.
